


Take You Away

by lookupkate



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Smut, Undercover at a strip club
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-18 17:00:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2355857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookupkate/pseuds/lookupkate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg's and Sherlock go undercover as strippers. Mycroft and Greg get off. Sherlock and John go home and get off. You.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take You Away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yarnjunkie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yarnjunkie/gifts), [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



It was quite possibly the most embarrassing case they'd ever worked. John was staring daggers at some bloke in cuffs while wrapping Sherlock's coat around the scantily clad detective. He'd been opposed the the whole thing but when Greg had agreed to go undercover with Sherlock he'd decided to let the two idiots have their fun. 

Greg hadn't been undercover in years, let alone in just his pants in front of real, live people. Sally had handed him his walkie and he was yammering about some thing or another as people were cuffed and sent out through the back door. The stupid colored lights were still on but at least the house ones were up high. 

Mycroft was standing with Anthea and another of his people, jacket off and braces hanging at his sides. He'd been undercover as a patron and was dressed to the nines. He rolled up his sleeves and Greg found his eyes lingering. Not okay, not even a little. He was still in the middle of this case and there was no time to be ogling the man. 

\-----

Five hours later, long after John had excused himself and Sherlock, Greg found himself sliding into a new pair of pants and trousers. Anthea had picked them up at his flat and he was grateful to get out of those little Italian things; they were holding his bits too tight. 

"I think I'll be finding glitter in my pants for an age." he said to Mycroft through the stall door. "Pass me my shirt?" 

Mycroft handed the folded shirt over the door and leaned back against the wall uncomfortably. He was hesitant to admit that he'd liked the small green pants Greg had been in and was reluctant to let him change out of them. Not that he had any say in it. It wasn't as if they were in a relationship. They barely even talked. 

Greg opened the stall door and dangled the pair of shorts, well, skivvies, in front of Mycroft teasingly. "Want a souvenir of our time working together?" he asked. 

Mycroft seemed to be at a loss for words and Greg laughed a little at it. The prat was always so composed, so in control, that he kind of enjoyed getting under his skin. 

"What's the matter, gov? Cat got your tongue?" he asked in a faux sex voice as he sauntered forward. 

"I'm too old to be joking around like this, and I'm quite late as it is, so I'll-" Mycroft began, refusing to look Greg in the eyes. 

"No you're not." Greg replied, taking another step forward. 

"Pardon me?" Mycroft stuttered. 

"You're not. Too old, that is. Late, maybe, but not too old. If that was the case I'd be making a right fool of myself." Greg said confidently. "But I know what it is that you really are." 

Mycroft attempted a long suffering sigh and made it about half way with any sort of believability. "And what is that, pray tell?" 

Greg licked his lips and tossed the pants over his shoulder. "Aroused." he growled. 

Mycroft laughed once, a tight and high pitched sound, while looking at Greg unbelieving. "I'm not AROUSED!" 

Greg moved forward the last bit so that they were chest to chest and looked up at Mycroft with a wicked grin. The flush had reached all the way up the posh man's neck and was coloring his cheeks. Greg thrust his hips forward and their clothed erections brushed together. 

"I think you just lied to me." Greg murmured against Mycroft's neck. 

"What are you doing, Gregory?" He asked after an audible swallow. 

"What I should have done after the Christmas party last year." Greg said, reaching a hand up and brushing his thumb across one reddened cheek. 

"It was just a dance." Mycroft's replied, voice soft and uncertain. 

"It should have been more." Greg said as he leaned in to lick across Mycroft's neck. 

"This is highly unprofessional." Mycroft's said, voice a bit breathy. 

"That's the point, Myc." Greg said, dropping to his knees and opening Mycroft's flies. 

"I-I-I'm not going to last long." Mycroft's stuttered. 

Greg drew his hard cock from his pants and gave it a long stroke, enjoying the loud sigh and groan. He licked at the head softly. 

"You liked me up there shaking my arse. You liked me in that skimpy little thing. Say it." He murmured, finally taking the head between his lips. 

"I liked-liked it!" Mycroft panted. 

Greg sunk down his cock, taking more and more of it until it butted against the back of his throat roughly. Mycroft moaned and gripped his shoulders. Greg pulled back and started bobbing his head and sucking him in earnest. 

"OH! Oh, that's, oh!" Mycroft said, voice rough as he approached orgasm. 

Greg tightened his lips and ran his tongue across the fat leaking head and Mycroft lost it, coming into his mouth in stream after stream. Greg drew back when his voice sounded pained and undid his own trousers to take himself in hand. 

"I should help you with that." Mycroft said, eyes closed. 

"Tell me what you wanted to do to me when I was up there on stage." Greg demanded breathlessly. 

Mycroft cleared his throat. "I wanted to take you home and have you ride my cock. I wanted to fill your mouth with my prick and make you choke on me. I wanted to come all over your face so everyone would know who owned you." 

The commanding tone of voice and the fact that he could now not only manage sentences but whole paragraphs was astounding. Greg pumped his cock and gripped Mycroft's thigh and the younger man looked down on him and smiled a little sadly. 

"I wanted to take you away from them." He whispered. 

Greg came at that and sagged against Mycroft's legs. The taller man ran a hand through his hair and sighed deeply.


End file.
